


Melody in Silence

by Elvarya85



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Coma, F/M, M/M, Major Character Injury, cellist!loki, deaf!Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:12:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvarya85/pseuds/Elvarya85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is a professional cellist with everything he could want.</p><p>Until a single bullet takes his ability to hear and everything else with it. </p><p>Broken and unwilling to accept what's happened to him, it takes a certain genius playboy to put him back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea came when I was in the car the other day with my brother and cousin. Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve came on, and we turned it up and got way too into singing it, and this one little phrase stood out to me, "Melody in Silence." (At least, that's what I think it was. I dunno, different websites say different things, but that's what it sounds like to me)
> 
> And then I started thinking of what kind of a fic would fit that title
> 
> And I came up with this
> 
> I already have a lot of it planned out, but warnings for me being a total asshole to Loki, sorry, pain and angst is coming.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Warning: In this fic, Loki is a professional cellist, as it made abundantly clear throughout the fic. I, however, have no experience with string instruments. I play flute, pic, and sax, which gives me enough background in music to write this, but I'm relying on advice and help from friends and followers on my blog for some of the specifics of playing the cello. Sorry if I get anything wrong, please let me know right away, and I'll fix it!

Loki took a deep breath. Then he heard his name announced - “Soloist, Loki Odinson” - and stepped onto the stage.

The light on the stage was blinding, blocking out any chance at seeing the audience, though he knew Thor would be waving anyway. His appearance was greeted by polite applause from the audience, and a few shouts and hoots from his brother. But he didn’t hear it.

He was focused entirely on his performance, on the cello resting beside the chair that was set up for him, with a spotlight shining on it and a black music stand with the sheet music for the piece he’d be playing tonight.

As if he didn’t already knowing every note by heart.

He swept into a low, practiced bow, without making any conscious decision, acting out of habit and muscle memory, and then moved to his chair.

A deep voice announced his name once more, there was more applause, and then the crowd quieted for the next piece.

The conductor approached the podium as Loki prepared himself. He nodded once to the man, letting him know that he was ready, and then they were off.

Loki allowed his eyes to close as the familiar music washed over him. Every chord, every rhythm, every syncopation was perfectly rehearsed, and it sent chills through him to his very core. 

He opened his eyes as he felt the anticipation rising inside him. He cue was coming, so close, so soon... The music rose, and then he drew his bow across the strings for the first time, and it sang for him. His fingers moved automatically, playing themselves for that Loki was consciously deciding how to move and form them. He’d done this before so many times, the piece was familiar to him, winding up and down with the orchestra behind him.

And then it was over, and Loki found that he didn’t remember a moment of it.

That was good, though. That was preferred. He never remembered his performances, not if they were any good. He only noticed things when they went wrong. When a note was hit out of time, when an accidental was missed, when, god help whoever it was because he would find the culprit and flay them alive, a chord was out of tune. He noticed those things and they tarnished his entire performance.

But when he came out of a performance and realized that he didn’t remember a damned thing...then he could breathe, assure himself that everything had gone as smoothly as possible, and he could appreciate and believe the compliments he would be showered with after the concert.

His name was announced once more, and he stood, bowing with a practiced flourish, and left the stage. He was sweating profusely, as he always did following a performance, and he needed to get out of the bow tie and jacket and pretty much most of his tux. It was stifling, and he needed to cool off.

This was one of his least favorite parts of performing. All the buildup to him, all the time and practice, his body would wind tighter and tighter leading up to the concert, and then once he left the stage, it was like everything just let loose, and that culminated in him sweating profusely for a few hours afterward.

He ducked into a practice room and quickly stripped, using a cloth he’d brought to dab at his forehead and lower back, then pulled on a loose t-shirt and thin cotton pants. He knew that most people would be dressed up for the concert, but if he was quick, he could meet his family in the lobby before the audience let out and be gone before anyone even knew. 

Before going to meet his family, he ducked into the bathroom and went immediately to the sink. His hair was getting long, longer than he generally wore it, but he found that he actually sort of liked it. Right now, it was falling forward, the raven locks framing his face. He turned on the sink and used some water to slick his hair back from his face, and then placed his hands, dripping with cool water, to his overheated cheeks. He was so hot, still sweating, but looking in the mirror, his eyes were bright and happy, happy in a way that only music and performing could make him.

He slicked back his hair once more, dried his hands, and walked out into the lobby. He heard them before he actually saw them, Thor’s call of “Brother!” echoing across the room. 

“Hello, Thor,” Loki said, smiling, then looked at his parents. “Mother, Father.”

“You played beautifully, Loki,” Frigga said, stepping forward to hug Loki.

“An amazing performance,” Thor declared, hitting him on the shoulder - hard enough to bruise, Loki mentally noted - when he pulled out of Frigga’s embrace.

“I loved it,” Jane piped in, standing beside Thor, the small woman totally dwarfed by his brother’s massive size. Loki liked Jane - maybe. Thor had been sort of keeping her to himself, so he hadn’t actually had much opportunity to interact with her, but he thought she seemed nice, and he knew she was an astrophysicist, working on her Ph.D, so she certainly had some major pluses in Loki’s book.

“Thank you,” Loki said, smiling as he looked at them, though, his eyes tightened a bit as his gaze fell on his father, who had yet to utter a word. “ _All_ of you. It means a lot, truly.”

“We’re always glad to be here and support you,” Frigga said, the turned to her husband. “Isn’t that right, Odin?” She said this with a sharp edge to her voice, one that left no choice for Odin but to answer.

“Yes, of course,” he said hurriedly, averting his eyes.

Loki resisted the urge to roll his own. His father had never been all that supportive. He hadn’t ever actually _said_ anything, not really, but it was clear from the way his eyes twitched when Loki mentioned his music, or the barest clenching of his jaw, that he didn’t think it was a worthy career, not for one of his sons, at least. And he certainly didn’t see why he’d had to pay so much money for Loki’s education just so that he could be a _musician_.

His mother, however, had always been supportive. She’d had Loki in music lessons since the day she came downstairs and found him sitting at the piano, experimentally pressing the keys to try to make a song. He’d started out on piano, then moved to viola, and then, after months of begging and pleading, she’d given in and convinced Odin to get him a cello for his birthday. He was fifteen when he received the cello, and he’d hardly missed a day’s practice since. 

Thor had been amazed by Loki’s music since day one. Always more of a creature of force, it was no surprise to anyone when Thor had gravitated towards football and wrestling. But when they were younger, he would slip into Loki’s bedroom as soon as he heard the first notes of Loki tuning his cello. He wouldn’t make any sound, and Loki never acknowledged him. Thor would listen to Loki play, watching him with eyes bright with amazement at the beautiful sounds his brother was pulling from the instrument. Thor thought it was magical, though he never actually told Loki that. He figured Loki must already know. 

It had been years since they’d done that, but they’d yet to speak of it to each other.

Thor clapped him on the shoulder again, and Loki winced slightly. He’d been practicing for hours before the concert. His shoulder was sore, and Thor’s abuse wasn’t helping. “Brother, Jane and I were going out for drinks after this, would you care to accompany us?”

Loki bit his lip, considering for a moment. While he’d certainly love an opportunity to get to know her better, he was tired, and desperately needed a shower. “Hmm, I think not. I’m tired. I’m going to get some takeout and go home.” 

Thor nodded. “Are we still on for lunch the day after next?”

Smiling, Loki laughed. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bid you all goodnight. Thor, Jane.” Loki maneuvered out of the way of another one of Thor’s blows and went over to his mother. “Goodnight, mother.”

“Goodnight, my son.” She pulled him into a light embrace, then released him, grimacing slightly. “You’re all sweaty...”

“I always am after performances, mother, Ever since I was a child.”

She laughed. “Go, go, take a shower while you’re at it.”

Loki grinned and turned, walking towards the door. He waved back to them and said, “Goodnight, everyone.”

Loki walked out to his car, shivering against the cold, and immediately turned on the heater, pressing his hands up against the vent to warm them. He saw that people had just started exiting the building and quickly put his car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

As he drove, he mentally ran through a list of restaurants he would pass on the way back to his apartment. He settled on a little hole-in-the-wall Chinese place he’d been frequenting since he’d moved into the neighborhood. He knew the employees, and they knew his order - mandarin chicken with two veggie eggrolls, please - so he just had to show up, wait for them to fill the go box, hand them a twenty - keep the change - and he was off. It was easy, he saw no reason to change from his routine, it worked.

The man behind the counter greeted him with a grin as he entered and he smiled tiredly.

“The usual, Mr. Loki?” he asked, already reaching for the box and the spoon in with the mandarin chicken.

“The usual, yes,” he said, nodding.

“You look tired, Mr. Loki,” he said, not rudely, just an observation.

“Ha ha, yes, I am. I’m planning to go home, eat my chicken, and sleep for several days, at the very least.”

The cashier laughed and finished filling the takeout box, then set it on the counter. He was just reaching for the eggrolls when a man ran into the restaurant. Loki turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow and taking in his tattered appearance. He was wearing several layers - a cotton jacket with a zipper under a scarred leather jacket. Beneath that was a brownish t-shirt. His jeans were dirty, torn, and too big for him, kept up with a canvas belt. His hair was long and greasy, dark blondish, and his facial hair was the sort that was obviously more from lack of upkeep than an actual attempt at growing it. 

Loki eyed him for a moment, then dismissed him, figuring the man’s appearance was none of his business. The cashier was eyeing the man too, he noticed, but all Loki really cared about was that his food was ready. He didn’t have time to think about every crazy person who walked into a Chinese restaurant. He handed over the money, told him to keep the change, then wished him a good night.

“Goodnight, Mr. Loki,” the cashier said with a smile and a nod.

Loki was gathering his food to leave when the man shouted, “Everybody freeze!” His hand, which had been in the pocket of his leather jacket, pulled out a gun, which shone dully in the light of the restaurant, and Loki eyed it, not liking the uncertain shake of the weapon in the man’s hand, or the way his finger was curled around and tensed on the trigger.

“I want all the money in the register, you hear me?” the man was saying. “I know you’ve got at least a couple hundred.”

Strangely, Loki’s reaction to this was one of overwhelming annoyance. He’d had a long day, and a stressful few weeks in general, and all he really wanted was to curl up underneath a blanket, put on reruns of _Whose Line,_ and eat his chicken until he passed out on the couch.

The cashier nodded and said, “Okay, okay, I’ll get you the money. I just need to-” He nodded to the register.

The robber nodded, and used the gun to gesture to the register. “Okay, but keep your hands where I can see ‘em!”

The cashier reached over and hit a button on the register. It opened, as expected, but what wasn’t expected - to the robber, at least - was the loud bell that sounded whenever the drawer was opened. It surprised him, and just that little bit of surprise was enough. His finger curled tighter around the trigger, and the quivering weapon discharged.

The next thing Loki was aware of was a sharp pain biting into his shoulder, then he was on the ground, his body feeling like it was on fire, but at the same time it was oh-so-cold.

Everything faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely reviews! I think this chapter may clear up some questions you guys have about the tags. Um, it's mostly gonna be focused on Loki at the beginning here, but I promise that Tony will show up in a few chapters! He can't show up until I've sufficiently broken Loki :)

Thor received a call about an hour after he and Jane arrived at the bar. It wasn’t that busy, a few regulars and some people who were slumped over drinks. It was only a Tuesday, after all, and the bar wasn’t that popular.

They took a table off to the side and Thor went to order drinks - a beer for both of them. Thor had tried to buy her one of the sweeter, fruit-flavored drinks once. She’d laughed at him and ordered shots instead, and Thor hadn’t made the mistake since.

They were sitting across from each other, Thor’s phone on the table between them, talking intently. They’d been thinking, about possibly moving in together, and both wanted to proceed, but they had some logistics to work out first, they both knew that.

Thor’s phone vibrated on the table, buzzing loudly against the linoleum and moving to the side slightly with each vibration. He looked down at it and saw the photo of his mother that he’d set as the ID. He reached for the phone, but Jane made a disapproving sound. “Can’t it wait?”

“It’s my mother, my lady. I should take this.”

Jane rolled her eyes, but waved her hand. “Fine, fine, answer it.”

Thor chuckled and picked up his phone. “Hello, mother, what can I do for you at this late hour?”

His mother sounded hysterical, sobbing into the phone, but through the panic, he made out the words, “Thor, Loki’s hurt. You need to get to the hospital.”

“Mother, what-”

“He’s been shot, Thor!”

Less than twenty minutes later, they were rushing into the hospital waiting room. They went immediately for Thor’s mother and father, sitting in the corner. Odin was stone-faced as ever, but Frigga was hunched over, appearing frail and weak as Thor had never seen her, and she shook slightly, as if sobs were still wracking her body, even after her tears had run dry.

She looked up when she heard footsteps, and Thor could tell by the way her face fell that she’d expected a doctor, come to give her news, but there was a different kind of relief that washed over her when she saw them. “Thor,” she said, rising and pulling him into her arms.

Thor embraced her tightly. “Mother, tell me what has happened?”

“He’s in surgery. T-There was a robbery, a restaurant got held up, and Loki was there. They have the man in custody, he panicked and ran out, then turned himself in, and the cashier called 911 after the robber ran out.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Jane asked, eyes wide with shock and concern.

Frigga lifted her shoulders uselessly. “They don’t know. I haven’t had any news since I arrived.”

A doctor appeared then, approaching them. “Is he okay?” Frigga demanded before the doctor could even speak.

“They’ve removed the bullet and stabilized him, so there’s no immediate concern there...”

Frigga breathed out a sigh of relief and collapsed back into her chair. “Thank the gods...”

“But,” the doctor said tersely, causing Frigga’s head to snap back up.

“But?” she demanded.

“He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s in a coma.”

“Well, wake him up!”

“It’s not that easy. Comas are one of the body’s defense mechanisms. At this point, ven if we could, waking him could do more harm than good, especially because we don’t know _why_ he’s in a coma.”

“So what do we do?” Frigga asked.

“We can’t run any tests on him tonight. He’s stable, and he’s in recovery right now. We have him hooked up to IVs to fight infection and maintain his condition. You can visit him, if you want.” He told them the room number and Frigga quickly hurried down the hall to the room, stopping in the doorway.

Loki looked bad. He was pale, paler than usual, even, and his flesh had a thin, sickly sheen of sweat over it. There were dark circles under his eyes. His hair was matted sticking to his forehead, and there was a tube running down his throat, keeping him breathing. 

Frigga froze for a moment, staring at him, but Odin placing his hands on her shoulders seemed to break her trance, and she rushed to his side, taking her son’s hand in her own. Thor entered the room behind his father, holding Jane’s hand, and moved to stand at the foot of the bed, staring at his brother. It had been years since he’s seen Loki, such a strong-willed man, so weak.

He’d been sickly, as a child. A couple times he’d even been hospitalized. Usually when that happened, he slept so much, he hardly remembered any of it, but Thor always stayed there with him, making up stories, telling him this and that, until Loki was well enough to come home. Thor thought it was his duty as a big brother to take care of Loki.

But it had been years since he’d seen Loki suffer from so much as  a cold. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d ever again see Loki so weak, so broken. He squeezed Jane’s hand without realizing it, and she rubbed his arm with her free hand.

Frigga slept there that night. Thor wanted to stay, but Frigga insisted that Thor go home and sleep, only half-kidding when she told Jane to drug him, if necessary. She also made Odin go home, instructing him to return in the morning with fresh clothes for her and coffee - the good stuff, not just what they’d have down in the hospital cafeteria.

After they’d all gone home, she pulled up a chair and sat by his bead, refusing to let go of his hand, though she was careful not to interfere with or irritate the IV that was running into the arm. She brushed the hair back from his face, muttering to herself about how it was time for him to get it cut, and dabbed away the sweat with a paper towel from the bathroom. 

In short, she acted as his mother, and cared for him through the night.

She awoke the next morning feeling stiff and tired. She was leaning forward, head resting on the bed beside her son with his hand still clasped in hers. She looked around wearily to find the source of her awakening, and her eyes landed on Odin.

“Good morning, Frigga,” he said, entering the room and setting the coffee on the nightstand next to her. “How is he?”

She shrugged. “The same, I think. No different, as far as I know.” He nodded and pulled up a chair next to hers, sipping his own coffee in silence. “What time is it?”

He glanced at the watch, the face at the inside of his wrist. “It’s a little after seven in the morning.”

She grunted, taking a long pull of her coffee.

“I brought you fresh clothes, they’re on the chair whenever you want them.”

“Thank you husband,” she murmured, reaching over to squeeze his wrist.

“Loki’s always been stubborn,” Odin said, looking at her. “He’ll pull through.”

“I know he will,” Frigga said, nodding. “I’m simply worried about lasting effects.”

They took Loki away around 8, saying they needed to run some tests and take some scans. Frigga just nodded, and Odin signed off on everything, so they were left in the room to wait.

According to all the scans and tests, they couldn’t find anything wrong with him. Aside from the wound from the bullet - which, they assured her, was already healing quite nicely - Loki was in perfect health. They’d stabilized him, and they had him on enough IV fluids to fill an Olympic swimming pool, but still he didn’t respond.

“Sometimes, the brain just needs to reset itself,” one of his doctors told them. “It’s like rebooting a computer. It needs to shut off and turn itself back on. There’s nothing we can do about it. It takes time, but he’ll come back to you. There’s no reason for him not to.”

His words should have been reassuring, but somehow, the end just seemed to carry a sense of foreboding for all of them.

On the second day of Loki’s coma, Thor showed up around noon. He had a can of Dr. Thunder in one hand and a sandwich and bag of chips from Subway in the other. “Mother?” he said, leaning into the room. Loki had since been moved from recovery to the ICU, where the doctors planned to keep him until he woke again.

Frigga looked up and gave him a tired smile. “Hello, Thor.”

Thor entered and came over to her. “You need rest. You should go home.”

She shook her head no.

“I will watch over him.” He held up the sandwich. “Loki and I have a lunch date right now, I can’t skip it.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “If there are any changes, you will be the first I call. Now go, get some sleep. Worrying yourself sick won’t help him, and you know it.”

She sighed and nodded, standing and looking up at him. She placed a hand on her son’s cheek, opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it, nodded, and left.

Thor sank into the vacated chair, placing his lunch on the bedside table and looking over his brother. Loki was looking better. He wasn’t quite as pale and the bags under his eyes had faded somewhat. The breathing tube had been removed when he’d been moved to his own room. One could almost believe Loki was sleeping, if not for the IV’s.

“Hello, brother,” Thor said, smiling despite himself. “I’m here for our lunch date. You said you wouldn’t miss it, so, well, I figured I didn’t have an excuse to, either.” He reached for the bag of chips - Lays barbecue - and opened the bag. “I’d offer you a bite, but, well...” He trailed off awkwardly. “The Lady Jane has asked me to pass along her regards. She has not been able to visit in several days, as she’s been tied up with work at her lab, but she’s been trying to get away.”

“Speaking of the Lady Jane! I have news, brother. You mustn’t tell Mother and Father, because we wish to tell them ourselves, but we are thinking of moving in together. We haven’t made any final decisions yet, but I believe we’re going to find an apartment.”

“Of course, Father wouldn’t approve. Mother, though... She and Jane get on quite well, I believe she would be alright with it. She is, after all, far less traditional than Father.”

Thor continued to talk, telling Loki about Jane, about work, about the people he’d met when Jane had brought him to a party with all the people she worked with. Among them was an engineer. He’d drunk so much at the party that he’d straddled the back of a couch like a horse and sang “Eye of the Tiger” until he fell backwards and passed out on the floor.

He talked in that manner until he finished his lunch, and then he just sat there beside his brother a while longer, until Frigga returned. Her hair was neater, her makeup done, and her clothes were fresh, neat, and clean. 

“I couldn’t bare to stay away,” she said by way of explanation. “How is he?”

“The same, mother. There’s been no change.” He stood, offering her the chair, and she sank into it with a grateful nod.

“I miss him,” she murmured.

“He’s still here,” Thor said fiercely. “Saying that he isn’t is the same as giving up on him.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and didn’t say anything.

Thor stood there for a moment, then said, “I have to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow. Please, mother, just keep hope? That’s all we can do right now.”

Frigga nodded and squeezed Thor’s hand. “Thank you, my son. I will remember that.”

Four days later, still nothing had changed. It was wearing on the whole family, constantly worrying about Loki, and even Thor had started to wonder what would happen if he just...never woke up.

But on the fifth day, while Frigga sat beside his bed clutching his hand, praying to the gods for his safe return, something amazing happened.

Frigga felt the slightest twitch against her hand, as Loki’s fingers squeezed ever so lightly.

Her eyes widened immediately, focused on Loki, trying to detect any sign of movement. And there it was! Loki was starting to stir. 

“Nurse!” she cried. “Nurse, he’s waking up!”

* * *

Loki opened his eyes slowly, wincing against the bright light. It took him a moment to focus, longer than he would have liked. He shifted, taking a deep breath. He felt sore all over, sore and weak, and _oh_ , no he really shouldn’t move his shoulder. What _was_ that? Why did it hurt so much to move his arm.

His eyes fell on his mother. She was crying, but she was looking at him in amazement, so he was pretty sure they were happy tears. Her lips were moving wordlessly and he smiled up at her.

“Mother, what happened?” he tried to say. But the words didn’t come out.

He tried again, forming the words carefully. It felt like he was speaking, but he didn’t hear anything.

Loki looked up at Frigga in alarm. “Mother, say something, please.” Frigga’s brows pulled together, and her lips moved, but Loki heard nothing. “Oh my gods. I can’t hear. I can’t hear!”

He panicked, lashing out, but he was restricted by the tubes running into his hands. He started ripping at them, trying to get them out, trying to get free. Then, a large body pressed down on him and large hands wrapped around his wrists.. A nurse, he realized, but he refused to be retrained, fighting against the man’s hold. There was the sharp pain of a syringe in his hip, and for the second time, everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should make it clear at this point exactly what kind of relationship I'm trying to portray between Thor and Loki. I've read and written enough fics where Thor is trying to have a relationship with Loki and Loki is just like "yOU'RE NOT MY REAL BROTHER" so I decided that I wanted a fic where they're really close and like, besties and stuff.
> 
> This is that fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually meant to wait longer before Tony showed up, but surprise, he's shown up now! Also, this chapter is longer than the others... I generally shoot for around 2k for my chapters, but this one wound up being a little over 3k. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Loki awoke again, feeling heavy and groggy. His head was still spinning and he had trouble focusing his eyes on anything. If he had to guess, there was a mountain in front of him that was wearing plaid. He struggled to focus his eyes, blinking several times until the figure came into focus, revealing that it was Thor.

“Thor,” he tried to say, but he didn’t hear anything. Thor’s lips moved, but he made no sound. “Oh gods,” Loki moaned, but still, he heard nothing. 

Thor held up a piece of paper that read “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Loki shook his head. “No, there’s nothing. I can’t even hear myself.”

What followed was a series of tests, everything from a standard hearing test to an MRI. At the end of it, they came back with one fact: there was nothing wrong with Loki. His eardrums were intact, he didn’t have brain damage, the auditory nerves were connected and communicating. They showed Loki the scans. They’d played various tones in the chamber to see how his brain reacted. The area lit up like a Christmas tree, just as it was supposed to. His brian was receiving sound, but for some reason, it just wasn’t processing it.

Then Loki was returned to his room, deaf and scared and without any answers. He looked up when the doctor entered, praying for something to be set right. In his hands, he held a stack of papers.

“WE CAN’T FIND ANYTHING WRONG WITH YOU” the first one read. He set that one down and moved to the second one, his mouth moving as he did so. Loki assumed he was explaining the situation to his family as he he was holding up the signs. “YOU HAVE SOMETHING CALLED CONVERSION DISORDER. IT MEANS THAT YOUR BRAIN ISN’T PROCESSING SIGNALS RIGHT. SOMETIMES THIS RESULTS IN LOSS OF SIGHT OR UNEXPLAINED PAIN. IN YOUR CASE, IT MEANS LOSS OF HEARING.”

“How do you fix it?” Loki asked, his words feeling clumsy and uncertain in his mouth because he couldn’t hear himself. The doctor winced, and Loki cringed in on himself, wondering if he’d been speaking too loudly by accident.

“THERE ARE NO CLEAR CAUSES, AND IN CASES LIKE THIS THE ONLY THING WE CAN DO IS WAIT.”

“Will my hearing return?” Loki demanded, panicking.

The doctor flipped through the signs for a moment, then turned one over and pulled out a sharpie to write on it. When he finished writing, it read, “IT MAY, BUT IT ALSO MAY NOT. ONLY TIME WILL TELL.”

Loki’s eyes widened as he read the sign. He needed his hearing, he depended on it. You can’t play music if you can’t hear what you’re playing.

Oh gods, what if he never heard music again? He didn’t think he’d survive without it. It was his lifeblood, the air in his lungs. Music had been his life for as long as he could remember.

And now it was being taken away from him.

The doctor left soon after. Thor started writing on a page, but Loki just turned away. He curled in on himself, rolled onto his side, and closed his eyes.

He tried not to break down entirely; he failed.

Loki was discharged the next day. He was giving a clean bill of health - aside from the obvious - and it was agreed that he would live with Thor for the time being. Loki really didn’t care either way. He didn’t have music anymore. He had nothing. Nothing to do, nothing to live for, no way to support himself... 

Thor drove Loki to his apartment after he was discharged, so that he could pick up whatever he needed. It was eerie, being in a car and not hearing sound. Lack of voices was strange, but the lack of background noise was what was really getting to him. Voices are noticed, background noise isn’t. Not until it’s gone. 

Loki kept it light, not needing much. He packed his clothes into a duffle bag, along with some toiletries and a copy of Alice in Wonderland. He zipped up the bag with some difficulty, put the bag over his good shoulder, and turned to leave his bedroom when he stopped, staring at his cello.

He set his bag down and walked over to it. Kneeling on the floor, Loki reached out and ran his fingers over the cool, smooth surface of the wood. It was his baby, his passion. He squeezed his eyes shut, promising himself that he wouldn’t cry. Instead, he kissed the tips of his fingers, placed his hand against his cello again, and then stood, picking up his bag and leaving it there in the apartment.

Loki was like a wraith for days after. He stayed in his room all day, sleeping or just sitting alone, appearing late at night to raid the fridge.

Loki saw no reason to change this. He didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to see the pitied stares he’d receive once it became apparent that he was unable to communicate. And he didn’t want to have to rely on his brother, rely on notes passed between them when before speaking was easy as breathing.

He didn’t want to be reminded.

So he stayed holed up in the bedroom, he saw no one.

Because there, sitting in the darkness, he could almost pretend that it wasn’t real, that the silence that surrounded him was natural, that he hadn’t lost everything that truly made him who he was.

About a week later, Loki awoke in the evening to find Thor gone. It wasn’t that odd. Thor had work, and he would often go out for drinks with Jane after. He got out a bowl and was just sitting down with his bowl of Cap’n Crunch when the door opened. He didn’t hear it, but he felt the barest vibrations of it in the chair and felt the air on his back. The lights were flicked on and, without turning around, he said, “Hello, Thor. Before you ask, no, I still can’t hear anything and I won’t try going down to Starbucks with you. I’m perfectly fine here, thank you very much.”

Thor had been continually attempting to get Loki out of the apartment. Most of their arguments had taken place over IM, because it was simply easier for all involved. Loki couldn’t hear anyone who was talking to him, and he said that speaking felt strange because he couldn’t hear his voice, and he had a tendency to shout when he was speaking, like when people had headphones turned up too loud and tried to speak without taking them off.

Loki didn’t turn to face his brother when he spoke, focusing on his cereal, then added, “Also, you’re out of Captain Crunch. And milk. And this is the last clean bowl, as well.”

A tap at his shoulder made Loki look up. Thor was standing beside him, scribbling on the little notepad he’d taken to carrying, and beside him was a shorter man with brown hair, blue eyes, and a beard that looked like it took an obnoxious amount of time to style.

Before Loki could ask, Thor held the notepad out for Loki. “THIS TONY STARK. HE STAYING WITH US FOR FEW DAYS.”

The man who Thor identified as Tony Stark held out his hand amiably. Loki stared, eyes darting between them for a moment, then said, “Thor, may I speak to you for a moment?” Before Thor had a chance to make any kind of reply, verbal or otherwise, Loki fisted the front of Thor’s shirt and dragged him along to the short hallway that led to the bedrooms. 

“Brother, what in the Nine do you think you’re doing?” Thor started fumbling with the notepad, and Loki exclaimed, “Oh, just use your bloody cellphone, Thor!”

Thor nodded and pulled out his phone, one of those ones that slides sideways to produce a full keyboard. He opened a new text and quickly typed his message, then showed it to Loki.

“WHAT IS PROBLEM?”

“The problem is that-” Thor flinched and indicated for Loki to lower his voice. “The problem, Thor,” Loki hissed, “is that I’m deaf and recovering from being _shot._ Do you really think this the best time to have a friend crashing on the sofa?”

Thor was already typing before Loki was even done speaking. “HAS NO OTHER PLACE TP GO. APARKENT BEING FUMED.” Loki arched a delicate brow at the typos, but didn’t comment. Thor was massive, hands included, and he’d never been particularly adept at texting on such a small keyboard.

“His apartment is being fumigated, you mean?” Thor nodded and Loki sighed. “How long will he be staying here?”

Thor typed quickly and showed him the screen. “A FEW DAYS. PROMISE HE WONT BOTHER U.”

Loki sighed again. “ _Fine_ , he can stay, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Thor grinned and pressed his hands together in front of his mouth, bowing slightly in thanks.

The two returned to the kitchen a moment later, finding Tony sitting at one of the stools at the counter. He said something to Thor, and Thor said something back, then Tony grinned - and Loki was steadfastly ignoring that, whoah, that smile was actually kinda gorgeous. 

Instead he arched an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation as to the exchange. He didn’t actually care what had been said, and could easily deduce that it was just Thor telling Tony that he was welcome to stay, but he just enjoyed inconveniencing them as much as he could.

Thor reached for his cellphone, which he’d returned to his pocket, but Tony waved him off, reaching for his own and pulling out a sleek black StarkPhone which had to be at least two models ahead of the one currently on the market.

“Wait, are you _that_ Tony Stark?” Loki asked abruptly, forgetting about his previous inquiry. 

Tony’s eyes tightened and narrowed, practically imperceptibly, but Loki was remarkably good at reading people, had been his entire life, so he saw it. Tony tapped out a message on his phone and showed it to Loki. “Yeah, but I’m just Tony, really. I just take advantage of my dad’s tech.”

Loki felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a small smile. Perhaps this Tony Stark wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Tony, as it turned out, worked in the same lab as Jane, trying to design something to see something or other really far away from Earth. Loki didn’t really keep track of the specifics, just let his eyes glaze over the longer words they wrote down. He was a Ph.D student, too, he told Loki, just working in the lab to keep himself busy when he wasn’t working on his dissertation. 

Loki got the impression very quickly that Tony was one of those people who had to be busy all the time, or he drove everyone around him insane.

The next day, Loki finally emerged from his room for food, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and looking like he might fall asleep standing up. Loki felt he deserved some kind of medal for getting up so early - it wasn’t even 4 in the afternoon! 

He found Tony sprawled out on the couch with some kind of notebook in his lap and a pen.

Seeing the other man, a broad grin spread across Tony’s face. He quickly wrote in the notebook and held it up for Loki. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Love the hair.”

Loki scowled and the messily written message, entirely aware of how his hair could get in the mornings. It usually wound up piling on top of his head in the night, curling far more than he liked until he finally tamed it with a brush and several products. 

“Don’t you have someplace to be? Like school or the lab or something?” Loki had meant it as a rhetorical question, really, and he’d turned his back on Tony, searching through the fridge for something to eat, lamenting that he’d finished off the Cap’n Crunch the night before. He’d been practically surviving on the stuff since he’d moved in with his brother.

As he moved from the fridge to the cupboards, he felt something poke the back of his head and turned, looking down and finding a paper airplane at his feet. He leaned down and picked it up, studying it for a moment. It was unlike any paper airplane he’d ever seen, sleek and complicated. He unfolded it, finding more of Tony’s messy scrawl. “Don’t meet with any professors today and my stuff at the lab’s on hold for a while. Why, you happy to see me?” When he glanced back over at the man, Tony winked slyly, and Loki rolled his eyes dramatically, turning back to the cupboard to find something edible.

Digging through the boxes, he pulled out a box of blueberry poptarts and held the box for a moment, considering if he really wanted to ingest something so vile, or if starvation was a better option. 

Motion in his peripheral vision made him turn to look at Tony, who put up two hands like he was trying to catch a ball or something. Rolling his eyes again at the man, Loki pulled out one of the silver sleeves and threw it to the man like a frisbee, then turned back to finding something actually edible. He finally found a solitary box of Mac ‘n Cheese, praise the gods, and pulled it out of the _very_ back of the cupboard to prepare it.

Honestly, how Thor survived at all and hadn’t died of starvation yet was beyond Loki, though he suspected he just ate Jane’s food most of the time. 

Tony appeared just as Loki was putting the water on the stove to boil, sliding over a note saying, “So what are you doing today, Snow White?”

Loki stared at the note for a moment, then at Tony, and finally just turned away and went to get the milk and butter out of the fridge. Between the general stupidity of the question and the annoying nickname, he didn’t really feel like justifying it with a response. 

When he turned back from the fridge, Tony was grinning - probably laughing, Loki couldn’t tell - and holding up a sign. “Okay, sorry, I won’t call you Sleeping Beauty. How’s Ariel?”

Loki glowered at him and walked over to him, until he was only a couple inches away from Tony. The man’s grin dropped, eyes widening at the unexpected proximity. Loki stood there for a moment, allowing him to feel uncomfortable, until he forcibly shoved him aside to open the drawer and pull out the measuring cup for the milk. 

“Pour in the noodles when the water boils,” he said, loving that his deafness would take away any opportunity Tony had to refuse or make some smartass remark. 

Loki measured out the milk and butter and set them aside, then turned back to Tony, whose sign now read, “All this cooking - I was wrong, you’re actually Tiana aren’t you?”

“You know, Stark, for a grown man, your knowledge of Disney princesses and willingness to make unneeded references to them is actually concerning.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it, Merida,” Tony scribbled down, setting it on the counter and tugging slightly at one of the curls of Loki’s hair as he passed him to get the box of noodles.

Loki just glowered again as Tony poured in the noodles, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Soon enough, they had the mac ‘n cheese made and were dividing it into bowls. When one had more in it, Tony pushed it towards Loki and typed onto his phone, “You take more, fatten up your skinny ass.”

“You, Stark, have no say in my skinny ass or any of its doings.” Tony’s smirk fell slightly and Loki grinned triumphantly, grabbing the larger bowl and a fork, making his way to his usual stool at the counter.

While they were eating, Stark slid over a note that said, “Even if you can’t hear it, don’t make me eat in awkward silence. Tell me about yourself.”

Loki laughed. “Are you really leading with that? Really?”

In response, Tony just took his pen and underlined the second sentence and looked at him expectantly.

Loki considered, and then shrugged. “I’m a professional cellist, I attended Juliard, I-” he stopped when he saw Tony say something and arched an eyebrow. “I do remind you that I can’t hear anything you say.”

Tony cringed and wrote, “You’re a deaf musician?”

“ _Temporarily_ deaf,” he corrected. “The doctors say I should get my hearing back soon enough.” They hadn’t actually said it, not with such certainty, but Loki preferred to be optimistic about the situation. It was better than wallowing in self-pity, as he had for the first few days after his discharge from the hospital.

“How’d that happen?” Tony asked next, then added, “Thor didn’t give me deets.”

Loki fought the urge to cringe at the use of the term “deets” but saw no point, so he said, “I was shot.” The way Tony’s eyes widened at his words was extremely satisfying. “I don’t remember it,” Loki quickly added. “I remember walking into a Chinese place, then nothing until waking up in the hospital. I was in a coma for a week, and when I woke up, I couldn’t hear.”

“Damage from the bullet?” Tony asked, writing it below his former question. “Where’d you get shot?”

Loki pushed back the blanket to show the sling holding his arm up, so that he didn’t use it too much and upset the healing wound. He pushed his shirt off his shoulder to show Tony the large bandage, and the bruises around it, which had since faded to purple and were now turning a disgusting green against his pale skin.

“How’d that mess with your hearing?” Tony scribbled. His questions were now just squeezed in wherever they fit on the page, letters squashed together and making reading them difficult. 

“Something about the coma making my brain reset and not start up again properly. They ran a lot of tests, and there’s nothing physically wrong with me, but my brain just refuses to process the input.”

“That sucks.” Tony wrote, then moved to another empty spot. “Any idea how long it will last?”

Loki shrugged. “They way the doctor explained it, it could return anytime. Or not.”

Tony paused, staring at him, trying to imaging just what it would be like, living with the uncertainty of ever regaining the ability to hear. “So what are your long term plans if it doesn’t come back?”

The question caught Loki by surprise. “I-I don’t have any.”

“Haven’t you at least thought about it?”

“I try not to,” Loki said, looking down at his bowl and mixing it around a bit as an excuse not to look at Tony, or the note. So Tony just pushed the note closer and poked his message twice with the pen. 

“You should probably start thinking about it, Aurora. This could be your life now.”

“I prefer not to think about it,” he repeated, still refusing to look at him. Tony started writing something, obviously just going to insist the same thing again, so Loki stopped him before he could get any further. “Tony, I don’t want to think about it, because without my hearing, my life is over. Please, just leave it!”

Tony stared for a moment, and then nodded apologetically. When Loki looked over again, he’d written, “Then tell me about Thor as a kid. There have to be some great stories.”

A small smile touched Loki’s lips and he started telling Tony every embarrassing detail of Thor as a child. 

When Thor came home from work an hour and a half later later - Jane had to work late at the lab, so he wasn’t going out with her tonight - the two of them were still sitting there, several sheets of paper filled entirely with Tony’s commentary, and roaring with laughter. Thor, naturally, inquired as to what was so funny. He was actually shocked to see Loki so happy, as he’d hardly done anything since he’d been discharged, but here he was, sitting with Tony, laughing and appearing to have a good time. 

Tony looked at Thor and tried to speak, but just wound up bursting out laughing again. Loki, snickering himself, said, “Not to worry, brother, I was just telling Tony about the time our neighbor stole your toy hammer, remember?” Thor blanched. “Remember how you put on a dress in an attempt to disguise yourself and get it back?”

Tony roared with laughter again and Loki smirked at Thor. Thor came over and wrote down, “YOU WORE A DRESS TOO, IF I REMEMBER.”

Tony laughed even harder, face turning bright red with the strain, while Loki glared daggers at his brother. Tony just looped one arm around Loki’s neck, still laughing, and wrote, “See? Told you you’re a princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes about like, medical stuff going on here. What Loki has is actually a legitimate psychological disorder. It's a somatoform disorder, which pretty much means that there are physical symptoms (pain, loss of senses, etc) without any physical problem that can e detected. I don't actually know if it can be caused by comas, I've read another fic (The Heart In The Whole by verityburns, if you're into Johnlock) where a similar thing happened where a character wound up blind.
> 
> So basically, I am entirely aware that there's some really shitty and inaccurate medical stuff going on here. I ask you to remember that I'm a teenage girl not a doctor :P


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have this up so much sooner, but Loki was being annoying and stealing all my motivation and not letting me write, so blame him.
> 
> Also, this was meant to be totally fluffy...but wound up being a bit angsty, sorry. But hopefully the plot can start moving towards getting happier after this!

Loki had a nightmare that night, as he did every other night. He was onstage, waiting for his cue, feeling the music wash over him... He was entirely focused, entirely ready. The moment was coming, almost there, when....

Silence.

He couldn’t hear anything. The conductor’s arms kept moving, the orchestra’s bows kept sliding across the strings, but Loki was engulfed in silence. 

The conductor looked at him, appearing slightly confused, and Loki panicked, trying to start his solo. From the look on the conductor’s face, that wasn’t right at all. Loki tried again, and now some members of the orchestra were visibly cringing.

Loki choked, unsure what to do, how to react, then everything went dark.

He woke up covered in sweat without any memory of the dream, aside from a vague feeling of panic that soon faded. Groaning, he rolled over to look at the clock. It was 10 AM, way too early for him to be up. He rolled back onto his front and buried his face in his pillow, but he quickly realized that he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon, and with the sweat drying on his body and soaked into his clothes, he would rather just get up and shower to try to shake off the feeling that something was wrong. 

He grabbed his towel and left his room, pulling his door closed behind him. When he turned, the first thing he saw was Tony there with a piece of toast and a grin on his face. Tony set down the toast and quickly scribbled a note.

“Morning Princess.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Good morning, Stark.” He was about to make his way down the hall to the bathroom when Tony started writing again. 

“Someone’s up early today.”

Loki rubbed his eyes. “Not by choice, I assure you.”

“Just couldn’t stay away from me?”

Loki chuckled. “Believe what you will. If you’ll excuse me.”

Loki couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face as he made his way to the shower. He turned on the water as soon as he entered the bathroom and started undressing as he waiting for it to heat up. He paused after he’d removed his shirt, staring at himself in the mirror. He was getting a bit too thin, he thought. He’d been slender his entire life, but before the coma, he had taken care of himself quite well. He watched what he ate, worked out daily, and generally just made sure he always looked presentable. Now, here he was, hair once again messy and tufted and curling out of control, deep bags beneath his eyes, and his ribs were sticking out far more than they every had before.

He groaned and turned away from the mirror. He stuck his hand under the water, finding it warm, and quickly shucked off his pants and stepped into the spray.

The hot water was heavenly against his skin. He hadn’t realized how tightly wound his body was, but the heat soothed and relaxed him, and he found himself breathing easier. He stood there for a few minutes, eyes closed and swaying slightly from side to side, just letting the water pour over him.

As his body relaxed, it didn’t take long until a more pressing concern made itself known. Still with his eyes closed, Loki slid his hand down his body to his cock. It was getting harder by the moment, twitching in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around it and gave it a slow stroke. He gasped and bit his lip to suppress a moan. He couldn’t hear how loud he was, and didn’t want to accidentally alert everyone else in the apartment - i.e. Tony - to exactly what he was doing.

He turned around so that the water was running down his front, swirling over his skin and down to the head of his cock as he stroked it, increasing in speed. He’d been neglecting this since the robbery, but now it was like his whole body was uncoiling, the tension was rolling off of him, and he desperately needed this, needed the release. Gods, it felt so good...

His lips were moving, repeating something over and over, but he couldn’t really focus enough to know what it was.

He was getting close, so close, he could feel it. He couldn’t hold back any longer, and he came hard, moaning, “Tony!”

His eyes opened when he realized what he said. He couldn’t tell how loud it had been, but it had definitely been the other man’s name on his tongue as he’d brought himself to climax. Loki was mortified, desperately hoping that Stark hadn’t heard him, because he didn’t think he’d ever be able to live that down.

He washed himself quickly after that, scrubbing his body and lathering his hair. When he turned off the water, he wrapped the towel around his waist and used another to dry the worst of the dripping from his hair. After brushing the knots out of his hair and pulling it into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, he looked at himself in the mirror again. The glass was fogged with steam, but he thought he looked better. His skin was flushed, so he didn’t look so sickly, and with his hair brushed and pulled neatly out of his face, he looked at least somewhat human.

Loki wrapped his towel around his waist a bit more securely and left the bathroom, realizing belatedly that he would have to walk by Stark to get back to his room. He sighed inwardly, telling himself not to act awkward and to just go back to his room with as little interaction as possible.

But of course, it’s Tony Stark, who can’t just let things be, can he?

He was sitting on the couch, tapping away at a tablet when Loki appeared. A broad grin spread across Tony’s face and he minimized a couple windows on the tablet, then opened a new one to type and show it to Loki. “My landlord called. I can go home tomorrow.”

Loki nodded, trying to ignore the inexplicable sinking feeling in his belly. “That’s...good,” he said. “We can have our couch back.”

More tapping at the tablet screen. “You mean Thor can have his tablet back and you can go back to being a koala.”

“Koala?”

“Adorable and nocturnal.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get dressed.” He turned without giving Tony a chance to type out a reply and walked back to his room. He dug through the drawer, suddenly torn as what to wear. He hadn’t really cared since he’d moved in with Thor, it hadn’t been something he’d needed to bother with and he’d spent most of his time in pajama pants and ragged old t-shirts, but now... He wanted to look good, or at least not like some crazy homeless person. He settled on a pair of fitted black jeans and a deep emerald t-shirt that showed off his thin frame. 

He emerged a few minutes later, yawning and heading for the couch. He sat down next to Tony and groaned. He glanced at the tablet when Tony held it up, reading, “Tired?”

Loki nodded. “Extremely.”

“Anything I can do?”

Loki shrugged and leaned sideways against him. “I doubt it. Sleep doesn’t come easily, ever since...” He trailed off, figuring Tony got it. “I have dreams,” he murmured.

“Nightmares?”

He nodded against Tony’s shoulder. “I think so. I can’t remember them, I just wake up feeling terrified.”

Tony seemed to hesitate, and then slowly typed, “I know how that feels.”

Loki turned his head to look at him in confusion. Tony set the tablet so that Loki could see it and started typing. “My dad sent me off to private schools when I was a kid. Company like his, we were all targets. Always high security, private cars, private jets, he did everything he could to keep me safe. But one guy got through. They knew what car I was in. They boxed me in, trapped me in the car, and they took me. Kept me for a couple months hoping I could remember some of the weapons designs or hack into Stark systems, but I couldn’t, I was only eleven. After a couple months, they released me. I still have scars from it.”

Loki stared at Tony, mouth having fallen open early on in his revelation. “I’m so sorry,” he finally said.

Tony just shrugged, typing. “No one can undo it. I moved on. Grew up, got past it, everyone involved went to jail and the publicity from is all drove Stark stocks through the roof. Everyone’s happy.” _Except poor Tony_ , he seemed to be adding silently.

Loki bit his lip, trying to decide what to say. “I’m...I’m sorry you went through that, Tony. I truly am. But I’m happy that you seem to have gotten past it. Happy for you, and for me.”

“Wasn’t easy, took a while.”

Loki yawned and shrugged, leaning back into him and closing his eyes. “You still did it, though.”

He felt the tiny flexes in Tony’s arm that meant he was typing again and he opened his eyes again to read it. “You tired, Princess?”

Loki nodded. “And you’re warm.” Loki had always been cold, ever since he could remember. It had culminated in him practically living in heated blankets in the winters and the use of fingerless gloves year round to keep his hands from getting so cold that he couldn’t function at all. 

Tony reached up and draped a blanket over Loki. It had been left there by Thor, but Tony had always burned so hot, he didn’t use or need blankets to fall asleep. But it was nice to know that he could do something to stop the barely-perceptible shivers from rolling through Loki’s body. Loki pulled his legs up under the blanket and leaned into Tony even more, eyes drooping heavily.

“Sleep. I won’t go anywhere.” Tony slid his arm across Loki’s shoulders, lending him more body heat, and Loki’s eyes drooped further, finally closing entirely as he fell asleep against him.

Thor came home hours later and found them still there, both on the couch with the blanket thrown over them, Loki curled into Tony’s chest with Tony’s arm hanging loosely about his waist. Thor considered waking them but decided against it. He knew that Loki hadn’t been sleeping well, and he knew that Stark had a habit of putting off sleep until he literally collapsed from exhaustion. They both looked so calm, so peaceful at the moment. Thor stopped himself, mouth already open to greet them, and decided against it. He left them there, going to shower and fall into bed himself.

Loki was awoken the next morning by the sun rising through the window. He could honestly say he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. He felt peaceful, rested. He knew he’d be slightly sore because of his sleeping position, but he felt good enough that he’d let it pass.

He was pressed up against Tony, who was snoring softly, a soft, rhythmic rumbling in the man’s chest that he could feel as a surprisingly soothing vibrating hum, and Tony’s head was resting on Loki’s comfortably, cheek pressed to his hair. Loki stayed there for a while, unwilling to move.

Finally, he could no longer ignore the urge to pee, but Tony’s arm around his waist was kind of a roadblock to that, so he said, “Tony, wake up.” 

Tony started and looked at him, a broad, sleepy grin spreading across his face. He said something, but Loki’s brow furrowed and he pointed to his ears, saying, “Deaf, remember?”

Tony rolled his eyes and grabbed for the tablet, typing, “Problem?”

“It’s morning,” he said simply. “We slept through the night.” Tony looked around in confusion, then nodded.”I’m going to go to the bathroom. Do you have to work today?”

Tony shook his head, then typed, “No, but I’m out of here today, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Loki nodded. “Alright. You’re welcome to stay a while longer, if you wish, as long as you don’t move in. There are enough freeloaders in this apartment, thank you very much.”

Tony smiled and nodded and Loki found himself smiling, too, as he made his way to the bathroom, feeling fully rested and better than he had since the robbery.

And though he didn’t realize it, Loki had slept without a nightmare tainting his sleep for the first time since he’d awoken in the hospital two weeks before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize to generation-loki for making her think Tony and Loki were gonna fuck in this chapter.
> 
> Also, I have a problem with motivation in fanfics, and I really want to get at least one chapter up per week. So I would appreciate it if you guys could pester me, here or on tumblr, to get chapters up!

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments would be greatly appreciated, either here, or on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> <http://tonystarksnipples.tumblr.com/ask>


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